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This right here's as high as it gets.

I've had this lunch box, this one lunch box, since I was about five years old. I remember because the lunch box I had before it was a garish plastic box with dial latches that never properly shut. Everything would always spill out of it, and a Power Rangers thermos can only take so much abuse. Finally, my mom took me to get a replacement: a red Jurassic Park lunch box. The perfect size for the Power Rangers thermos and a sturdy plastic latch. For the briefest of moments, there was a substitute: a soft red Jurassic Park III lunch box. Well, sack, I suppose. Traded a Tyrannosaurus for a Velociraptor. That didn't last long.

Sixteen years later, I'm still bringing that lunch box to work for lunch.

Sentimental, I guess. It's just easy to get attached to things. Meaningless trinkets, especially. Not meaningless, really, since they get assigned meaning. A lunch box. A scarf. A magnet. A bracelet. A dreamcatcher. A cup. A pen. It's kind of nice to notice those things. It's just clutter, really. No real reason for it all to be sitting around taking up space. Just a mess nobody else would pay any attention to. Emotional, I suppose.

Wah wah wah.

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